Monday, August 2, 2010

But I do know that I'm totally justified with how much I like you. And everyone agrees. It's hard for me to find a girl that I'm okay with. I'm way too picky for my own good. So when I like a girl, there must be something about her. And in this case, there definitely is.

And yet something tells me that I stand a better shot of making drum major in the next two weeks. Because girls like you do not date guys like me. But it has happened before. And that gives me just enough hope to break my heart.

See, I've got this fear that I'll never be right for a girl. Not just any girl, but my girl. And I'm the kind of guy who wants to be able to say "my girl". For some reason, it gives me a more definite sense of purpose. I know I'm here for a reason. Right now, I feel like it deals with religion and philosophy and all that jazz that means nothing. But it's also you. Or whoever else ends up catching my eye.

I feel like Say Anything. Like Ludo. Like Fall Out Boy. Or, oh, God, Maroon 5 (She Will Be Loved).

I'm the guy who doesn't know how to act when he's around her, and all he wants is for that one girl to run up to him and hug him tight.

I'm the guy who just wants to make you happy. Why? Because you're on my mind. A lot. And it sucks. I'm sick of it. I want to be able to focus and not have my mind, once again, drift back to you. It's annoying. It's not annoying because I think of you a lot, but because, like I said, girls like you don't date guys like me. Usually. That small slimmer of hope is the annoying part. I feel like there's some shot that I magically have and that, somehow, it'll all work out in the end.

And now I'm listening to Hum Along. And I realize that if I wrote a song about you, it would sound a lot like this.

I've already said this, but that small slimmer of hope sucks. It's the one thread that keeps me where I am. I'm not here, I'm not there, I'm just right in the middle. That little thread tugs me one way and another thread tugs me another way.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I have absolutely zero chance. In which case, I wouldn't be surprised. It wouldn't make sense, though. But nothing that happens between us is making sense.

I think I'll just end it right here. I could go on forever, or at least for a long time. Like in Hum Along, "Something about you stabs me right through." At least I'm not painting your picture. That's just creepy.

I appreciate that you're always there. Your advice is simple, yet it works. It seems without you I would stumble in the dark with my hands in front of me grasping blindly for dangerous objects.

I admit, we have had our troubles. We don't always agree, but we have our reasons. It seems our minds are never made up, and we never quite agree to one single idea, nor do we stay with one idea for long.

We bounce around until we run into something so deep-seeded within us, we stick to it like dew on a chilly spring morning. Ideas like deism, people like John Locke, books like Eragon, movies like Fight Club. We choose to, above all else, look into these. And I've noticed they're all thought-provokingideas or things. I guess that's what makes us so close yet so disagreeable.

But we have our issues. We can never pick a singular path. In the end, we merge two ideas. It never really ends up the way we want it to, either. Yet we always pick up the pieces and try again. We never give up. Remember that guy who gave up? Neither does anyone else.

But our issues also seem singular. The different sides of us always suffer together, and always come up with different solutions. In the end, the simplest one is the one that would have worked.

But the worst of it all is the fact that I have no best friend. I have friends, good friends, great friends, but no best friend. I am my own best friend, and my different moods and ideas make me swing from one person to another all within my one body.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

10: Maple syrup. Everywhere. Who does that? I've heard of Tabasco on pancakes, which is weird, too. But maple syrup in beer? I've even heard of people putting it in shampoo. So now you Canadians are wearing food? Way to go.

9: That place is cold. Like, really cold. I've heard stories of people stepping out of the airports and quite literally freezing in place. Like, seriously. It's bizarre. I think when we finally plan to invade them they'll throw snowballs at us. Speaking of which...

8: Their crappy military.

I heard that the operator of that forklift was drunk off the beer.

Speaking of which...

7: The beer. Really? Come on. Just...this one is too easy.

6: England. You know who still has the Queen on their currency? Yup. Canada. How sad is that?

5: Hockey. "Look at me, I can skate and hit crap with a stick!" GOOD FOR YOU. HEY, HOW ABOUT YOU GO DRINK SOME DECENT BEER?

4: The name. It's Canada. So why are they called Canadians? It should be Canadans. Or Canadia. None of this Canadians are from Canada crap.

3: They're stingy with their oil. Listen, Canadia. Give us some oil or we'll come up there and take it. Seriously.

Thursday, July 29, 2010

So it's 4 AM and I'm wide awake. It probably doesn't help that I ate a big dinner and when I got home at 8, I laid down on my bed. When I woke up, it was 12:02 AM.

I've got work at 5 PM tomorrow, but I'm afraid I'll sleep in. I'm going to actually set an alarm for this. That sounds really irrational but it's 4 AM, so everything sounds sane. Kind of like calling Obama a socialist because he wants national healthcare. Oh, wait, that's still retarded.

Anyway, now it's 4:16. I just wasted 15 minutes of my life trying to find that one picture.

Today (er, yesterday) is one month from the day my brother ships out from Afghanistan. He's only been there since March, and that's because he went into the Army a year ago and was in training. My family and his wife and her family are all looking forward to his return, and he gets a month leave in October. I'm excited about being able to see him because the last time I saw him was his wedding in January. He got married on a Saturday and I got a text the Tuesday before. "Hey I'm getting married this Saturday." Oh, well, thanks for the advanced notice.

While I'm rambling, how about that Jessi Slaughter girl? She's like 11 or something and she cam-whore'd online. But the thing everyone is freaking out about is cyber bullying. Come on. It's the internet. Do me a favor and grow up and realize that the world ain't yours. Look, bullying is usually in the form of, "Give me your lunch money." Cyber bullying is, "Haha, you're such a slut," orsomething like that. Anyone who has been age 12 would realize that not everyone is nice. Good Morning America didn't help by making this much more public than it already was. I love the media.

By the way, the Arizona immigration law is awesome. Apparently, they can only ask for your papers (or proof of legal residence if you want to get technical) if you break the law. Yup, that's right. If you break the law, you have to prove you can even be here in the first place. That makes perfect sense. Unless you're Obama and you're ashamed that someone else is doing your job. I love the government.

I just noticed how much I tend to ramble about things that are out of my control. But you're still reading, so you must be interested (good-bye fourth wall).

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